Do I Have to Like Pinterest?

Last year I attempted to make my WordPress blog into something a little bit more professional than, say, my Tumblr blog or general personality.  (I have since realized that I don’t particularly care about having a traditional “professional” demeanor and prefer to dream about making a living doing things I like and being a genuine self as opposed to a corporate Stepford Wife. I digress.)

Anyway, when I first wrote about Pinterest I can’t say that I was in love. I was trying to figure out how to use it before it became the Next Big Thing.  I wanted it to be at least partially professional and connected to my cleaner persona but didn’t really connect with the internet collage of it all.  (Considering my tweenage bedroom was covered in clippings from magazines, I’m actually surprised.) After I clicked publish on my post, I basically forgot about the damn thing.

Until it popped up on my Facebook news feed. And news articles. And annoying girls I went to high school with who now consider themselves great cooks and organizers. (Nothing against great cooks or organizers, I’m just so not there yet.)

Recently I’ve been trying to get into it, maybe see if I was missing something the first time around. I’ve been pinning images from DIY blogs (projects I’ll never end up making), design blogs (furniture I’ll never end up buying), and fashion blogs (clothes I’ll never end up fitting in).  I like and repin but it hasn’t become second nature quite yet.  If I don’t embrace Pinterest for what it is – a kitchen cork board for the Digital Age – do I lose my street cred?

Are you into Pinterest?

Ho Ho Holidays

Part of my current job (in which I’ll only be for another four business days!) is to serve as administrator for our live chat  system.  You know those creepy people who pop up on your computer screen and ask if you need help picking out the perfect boxer brief? Yeah, that kind of system.

As an administrator, I got a little present from the blogger gods in my inbox this morning: holiday chat icon options.  Call me perverted, but don’t you think the winter ladies look a little, shall we say, racy?

If Santa has an 900 number, I think we found his models.